


Silver Bells

by JunChai



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), yoi - Fandom, yuri on ice, yurionice - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Inspired by Yuri!!! on Ice, M/M, Vikturio, Yaoi on Ice, Yurio, viktor x yuri - Freeform, viktor x yurio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10194188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunChai/pseuds/JunChai
Summary: For Viktor, the silver-tressed legend with the sparkling smile, people have always made the assumption that life has been simple, but often times if the light is bright enough, it can be blinding. Struggles in his life lead young Viktor to seek comfort in what will later become a devastation.Yuri Plisetsky had a rough childhood right from the get-go. With both family and financial issues, he immersed himself in the world of figure skating, becoming the top skater in the junior division and impressing senior skater Viktor Nikiforov.What effect will the two troubled boys have on each other? How will their relationship progress?





	1. Frozen In Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! So this first chapter is just a brief introduction into Viktor and Yuri's past. Not a lot happening yet, but I gotta get you guys into that angsty mood. It's more like a prologue than anything else.
> 
> On a side note, this is a Vikturio fanfic and if you're not into that, kindly leave although a relationship will only form in the later years of Yuri's life. I love to hear feedback, suggestions, predictions, and everything else so don't be afraid to leave some comments.

"I thought I told you I was busy, Viktor."

"Yes, but..."

"I'm busy."

The click-clack of heels on stone marked the moment that Viktor's mother left the eight year old boy behind at the  ice rink to attend to 'business.' Whatever that meant was far out of reach of the young boy's thought process. To him, it simply meant that she was leaving and he would be spending yet another day without her, alone at the ice rink. Of course, there would be other people there. Of course, it would be bustling with activity, but it didn't feel any less lonely than being locked in a closet.

This was nothing new to the boy, however. His parents both had pressing careers and often left him in the hands of their close friend who owned the local skating rink. Viktor would occasionally spend the time watching the skaters, but he never really held much interest in it. Mostly, he would spend his time terrorizing the little kids.

But not today.

A sudden yell snapped the boy out of his reckless activity. Yakov Feltsman, the main coach at the rink, had taken on a new student only a couple of months ago.  He was said to be the newest and possibly biggest talent in Russia since Yakov, himself.  Viktor was always aware of the skating gossip. It was only natural for one who spent almost everyday at the rink.

"Anton, I thought I told you to work that quadruple salchow until your toes started to bleed! Get up and do it again!" the stern-faced coach shouted out at the ice. The student quickly returned his blades to the ice and attempted it again, landing the most flawless and complicated jump that Viktor had ever seen.

That was the moment that Viktor decided what he wanted. He was going to become the top skater in all of Russia.

##### 10 Years Later

"Vitya, I thought I told you to fix that landing even if it made your toes bleed!" That same stern expression that he had seen ten years ago was this time directed at the now eighteen year old Viktor. The teen just laughed and shot his coach a shining smile.

"Yakov," he called, dragging the name out dramatically. "If I had made my toes bleed, then I wouldn't be able to skate today!"

"Why, you..." the old man grumbled bitterly. His newest talent was quite the handful, but he was also the most talented skater that the world had seen since Anton. Viktor knew that Yakov couldn't just give up on him.

Skating over to the gate of the rink, Viktor quickly hopped off the ice and gave Yakov a peck on the cheek. "I'll work on it tomorrow. I have somewhere to be. Dasvidaniya!" The silver-tressed male gave his coach a flashy wave before he hustled out of the rink where a man in a blue marussia sat waiting for him. He tossed his stuff in the trunk of the car and hopped into the passengers seat.

"Where are we going today?" he inquired in excitement.

"Anywhere you want, Baby."

For months, Viktor had retained a steady relationship. Everyday, he would be picked up after practice in that blue marussia and they would go on some adventure whether it be as simple as a trip for ice cream or as exciting as kayaking. 

But it wasn't long before things turned sour. 

~~~

Yakov had easily started to notice a change in his student's attitude in recent weeks. He seemed more docile, less energetic and more ready to comply. Something else had been nagging at him as well and today was the last day that he was going to sit idly by while he watched this boy wither away. Marching right up to Viktor where he sat lacing up his skates, Yakov grabbed his arm and yanked up the sleeve. Viktor's eyes flashed with sudden surprise at the action, but they quickly relaxed. He made no effort to pull his arm away.

The pale skin that Yakov had just revealed was covered in dark patches. "Vitya..." he whispered, moving his hands to cup his face gently with worry.

Now beginning to tremble, the eighteen year old reached his own hands up to cover his eyes that were starting to glisten. "Yakov," he started shakily. "Yakov, I messed up."

***

"Princess! Princess!" they had teased cruelly. "Why don't you let down your hair, Rapunzel?" They tugged at the shoulder length golden locks that adorned the seven year old boy's head.

Yuri had always been small for his age and he had the beauty of any pretty girl so being teased was commonplace, but it had a huge effect on him. He started to dress more rebelliously and act more tough in an attempt to appear more masculine. Naturally, he had never been able to make any friends.

Eventually, however, he was pulled from public school and started his education under a private tutor. This was partially due to his troubles at school, but the other part could be attributed to his skating endeavors. Having been a huge fan of the Living Legend, Viktor Nikiforov, Yuri had taken up the skating mantle from a very young age and had recently been adopted as a student by the Yakov Feltsman, Viktor's own coach.

The cost of tutoring was expensive and his family could've never afforded it on the measily salary of his grandfather. Fortunately, Yakov had seen the potential that the boy had for skating. He was a natural. The coach provided all needed funding for Yuri's education as long he continued to skate.

Soon, Yuri was undergoing rigorous training both in ballet and skating. He started competing that year and all of his earnings went to supporting his financially bankrupt family.

~~~

"Mama?"

"Whadya want, Kotenok?" the slurred words seemed to slide from her mouth.

It had been this way ever since Papa had left years ago. Grandpa had said that Papa couldn't come back, but he was in a better place now. Yuri didn't think that Mama had believed him. She would always try to drown herself in liquid from glass bottles.

"Mama, will you watch me skate today?"

"I'm tired, Kotenok. Maybe some other time."

It wasn't hard to tell that something was wrong with Mama. She was always tired and never willing to play with Yuri or watch his skating lessons. Sometimes she would spend all day away from home for 'work,' but Yuri knew that she didn't have a job.

Knock! Knock! Creeeeak. . .

"Yuratchka, are you ready?" the cheery voice of Yuri's grandfather interrupted the conversation between the blond and his mother.

"Ah, yes!" With one last glance toward Mama, the little Russian boy headed off with Grandpa to his skating lessons.

~~~

In the ballet studio, Yuri was the top of the junior class, the most flexible, the most light on his feet. He was the ballet instructor's star pupil and she had always urged him to leave the skating world and join the ballet world instead, but Yuri was resolved in his passion. He would become the top skater in all of Russia, a skater that could compare to the likes of the Living Legend.

He was never really close to any of the students in his ballet class. They had formed their little groups and Yuri was never a part of them, but one student had caught his attention: Otabek Altin. The boy seemed to be a lot like Yuri. He didn't talk to any of the other students or intiate any kind of friendship. He simply seemed to observe from the corner.

Yuri might have become his friend had he not been afraid to form a bond with someone who could end up hurting him or leaving him behind.

##### Five Years Later

"Okay, if I win without any quads, then choregraph a program just for me!"

"Sure. When you win the Junior World Championship, come see me."

Those words were everything he needed. He would win and he'd do it how Yakov said. He would do it so he could finally work with the Viktor Nikiforov. Just a few more years and he'd be able to realize his dreams.

But some things weren't meant to be.


	2. A Crack in the Ice

_Disappointment. . ._  
_Pain. . ._  
_Irritation. . ._  
_Despair. . ._  
_Betrayal. . ._  
_Agony. . ._  
_Torture. . ._  
_Torment. . ._

None of those words had seemed to describe the amount of hurt that Yuri had felt when Viktor was missing that morning, the injustice that was done to him, the wrong that he had committed. _Why did he go? _Why?_ We had a promise. He made me a promise. He made _me_ a promise. ___

____

What it was that dragged him all the way from Russia to Japan, he may never fully understand, but whatever it was, it was powerful, deprecating like a giant, red button labeled 'Self-Destruct.' The boy was practically a ticking time bomb and Viktor had pushed the button.

_Damn that bastard Nikiforov._  
_And damn that fucking pig that took him away._

Of course, he had lost.  Of course, Viktor wouldn't fulfill his promise to him. Yuri had known the moment that he felt the ice under blade. He knew that it wasn't good enough. He knew it was missing something necessary, vital. He knew that he had lost. He had lost to that damn pig. He wanted to rip that fucking katsudon's head off. Viktor couldn't coach a dead man, after all, but that feeling was dulled by this annoying aqueous feeling his my eyes. He didn't have the energy to protest.

_Agape? Pure, innocent love?_

How the hell was he supposed to know what fucking agape was supposed to look like? How was he supposed to skate to something so worthless, so stupid?

Come to think of it, maybe he had been more angry at himself than either Viktor or the pig, angry at his failure, at his worthlessness, his lack of ability. Yuri was the one who had lost. Neither that damn pig nor Viktor had forced him to skate like he did that day and yet, that was how he had skated.

He had decided to leave quietly in order to return to Russia. There was no use in staying in a place where he was unwanted. Not to mention, he didn't want to face Viktor in all his shame and he especially didn't want to face that other idiot. They were both irritating as hell and dealing with them right now wasn't really his idea of fun.

Unfortunately,  things never seem to work out the way he wants them to. . .

The moment he had begun to unlace his skates in the locker room, Viktor - fucking - Nikiforov just had to walk in and even worse, he just had to sit down on the bench with him.

He had never thought about what life would be like in jail until that moment.

"Yura?" _Did his voice sound different just now?_ That irregularity unnerved the blond and drew his attention from the laces. Viktor wasn't wearing that sly-ass smile of his. He was almost unrecognizable with that expression of genuine solemnity.

"What?" the younger snapped irritability albeit a little less irritability than usual. He didn't have the energy to be as mean and intimidating as he normally would have been.

"You did well today. "

"Don't lie to me, you shithead." Did he think Yuri was stupid? Naïve? A _novice_? That last guess irritated him the most. Why did he have to go and think that? He felt sick.

Viktor chuckled lightly at the reaction and gave the other one of those disgusting hair ruffle-things that brothers always gave their little sisters. He was looking down on him.

Man, Yuri wanted to sock him in the face,  but he just gave him the most menacing snarl he could muster right then. Even he had to admit that it wasn't that scary. It was taxing solely to move the muscles of his face, let alone control any kind of intense expression.

"You caught me." With another chuckle, he removed his hand from the boy's head and Yuri felt like he was removing his heart with it, each centimeter that it drew away from him was another centimeter farther that Viktor, himself grew. "You didn't do well, but you didn't do bad either. I don't think you lived up to your potential today and I believe that I may be at fault for that."

"Don't be so full of yourself." the blond was really starting to get irritated now. How dare he? To pretend that he cared, to take the blame for his bad skating. . .

"Yuri-"

"Shut up! You broke your promise, Viktor! Your words are meaningless! Lzhets!" He probably wasted near ten minutes just shouting at the legend, but if he hadn't he, in all likelihood, would have broken down in tears right there in front of him. Like hell he'd let Viktor see him cry.

But there were so many other things, things that he shouted at the silver-tressed male in his head, that he would have rather said to Viktor at that time. Yuri wanted him to know what he had done, how he had made him feel, what injustice he had committed. He wanted him to understand, but how can someone understand a person that doesn't even understand themself?

_It hurts._  
_You left me alone._  
_You left me like everyone else has._  
_Why does everyone leave?_  
_Don't leave me._  
_Am I not good enough?_  
_Am I not enough for you?_  
_I want you to look at me._  
_I want you to watch me._  
_I want you to see me._  
_Watch me, Viktor._  
_See me._

_Please. . . Vitya._

When did he leave the bench? He couldn't remember.

 


End file.
